


My Sins Are For You

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: With Bloodied Hands I Pray [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Boys In Love, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Murder Husbands, Past Rape/Non-con, Protective Tony Stark, Revenge, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 05:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20615795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: “I mean it. I love you…till the end. I trust you with my life and if you choose to take it, I’d give it willingly.”Reupload from ButterflyEye





	My Sins Are For You

Stephen knew something was wrong even before he got out of his car. The porch light was on, beckoning him home when he knew there should be nobody inside. The blinds were closed as though to avoid prying eyes and Stephen swore, he saw a shadow move in the upstairs window.

Despite himself, Stephen grinned.

Stepping out of his car he cast his eyes down the abandoned streets, weary of his neighbors spying and seeing something that was in their best interest not to. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, he carefully climbed the creaky stairs and didn’t bother taking out his key, simply let himself into his house.

All the lights were on and he was greeted with the mouth-watering scent of roasting meat and familiar spices. Stephen almost sagged with relief right there and then. Of course, there were more important observations to make as well, namely the unfamiliar shoes in the corner and the rug completely askew. A quick glance at the table in the entryway revealed it too had obviously been knocked over and replaced with everything not quite in its rightful place.

He was angry then. That was alright. That was how Stephen planned it.

Taking off his jacket and his shoes, Stephen approached the kitchen slowly, wondering what exactly he would find, unable to keep his heart from beating rapidly in excitement. Turning the corner, he found Tony, his…well that was the complicated bit, carefully placing a steaming pot that seemed to hold a roast onto the dining table.

There were spots already set, plates and silverware at the head of the table and on the right. Accompanying the roast appeared to be steamed vegetables, garlic potatoes and two glasses of red wine. Tony himself stood there wearing a casual black t-shirt and jeans, the welcoming expression the picture of domesticity.

Except for the eyes, which glinted with familiar rage and a smile that was all sharp teeth. That alone should have been enough to make Stephen run screaming from his home, turn on his heel and call the police, tell them there was a murderer in his house.

He didn’t.

“Hello Stephen, how was work?”

He met Tony’s gaze and smiled, “long and tiring.”

Tony’s eyes didn’t leave him as he rounded the table and took his place to the right of the head and began helping himself to the food. When Tony didn’t move, Stephen raised an eyebrow at him, head tilted curiously.

There. For a split second there was a hesitance about him, a brief glimpse of vulnerability that Stephen had been looking for. It was gone in a flash of course, as Tony straightened his back and took a seat at the head as though nothing were wrong, as though this wasn’t the first time, they’d seen each other in two months.

In silence they filled their plates. Stephen snuck glances where he could, taking in the disheveled hair, the cut on cheek, the bruise rapidly forming on his throat. Where there should be fear at the implication of those wounds, there was only longing and a distant kind of arousal.

Stephen took the first bite and nearly moaned as the meat melted on his tongue, “this is delicious Tony.”

The other man’s lips twitched, those dark eyes sparkling with something other then rage. Stephen wished he could tease him properly, but it was too soon, and he had no desire to see the man run out the door again because of missaid words and misplaced meanings.

Tony took the first bite of his own food, but he didn’t seem to taste it, brows furrowed as they looked at Stephen. It was obvious this entire thing had been orchestrated to throw him off, confuse him in preparation of a confrontation and now that Stephen wasn’t reacting, he didn’t know what to do.

Perfect.

They ate the rest of their meal silence that was surprisingly not uncomfortable. Stephen sipped his wine sparingly and noted when Tony did the same. Right around the time they were both finishing up there was a loud, distinct thump from upstairs.

Both heads swivelled up and Stephen let a smile stretch across his lips. Looking back at Tony, he was met with weary curiosity and Stephen found himself leaning back in his chair, taking in the man he loved so desperately, the man who would do anything for him.

“I’ve missed you,” Stephen murmured.

Tony’s jaw clenched, storm clouds invading his usually warm eyes, “did you?” he asked coldly.

Stephen nodded, “of course.”

Tony’s hand tightened around the steak knife at his side and Stephen was surprised to find he wasn’t afraid, only intrigued, “is that why you’ve been on half a dozen dates in the past month?”

Stephen smiled a little shakily, “yes, actually. After what happened…” he broke off, eyes fluttering closed, the memory of unwanted hands sliding over him and a slimy voice in his ear. Despite himself his breathing sped up and he found his arms folding in front of him.

“Stephen?” that gentle voice drew him out of the rapidly approaching panic attack and when he peeled open his eyes it was to find Tony kneeling at his side, hand on his knee, eyes so god damn loving. “You’re alright, you’re safe here.”

There was a longing in there too, like he wasn’t completely sure that Stephen should feel that way with him there. He didn’t know that this was all Stephen had wanted for the past two months, had been yearning for.

The shaking subsided and Stephen grasped at his hand, “I know.”

Disbelief flashed over his face and so Stephen stayed silent, letting him work it out. It didn’t take long, Tony had always been incredibly smart, and finally, eventually, realization dawned on his face, making Stephen smile widely.

“You did it on purpose?”

“Not entirely,” Stephen confided. “I missed you. I knew if I went out with him you might come back, finally. But…I didn’t expect him to try to…” he cut off again, voice cracking.

“Shhh,” Tony soothed, hands running through his hair. “He won’t hurt anyone, especially not you. No one will hurt you again, not if I can help it.”

The words were like a balm over burned skin, a wound that hadn’t been able to heal without Tony here all this time and Stephen found himself turning in his chair, cupping Tony’s cheeks in his hands, “I’m sorry I ran from you that night. I was overwhelmed, after everything, it was unexpected…I just needed time to adjust.”

Tony’s eyes searched his for lies. Stephen didn’t blame him; it must be the very last thing he ever expected to hear from anyone. In some strange way he wasn’t entirely sure he believed he was saying the words at all, certain he’d gone crazy along the way.

If he had Tony with him though, it didn’t matter.

“I mean it. I love you…till the end. I trust you with my life and if you choose to take it, I’d give it willingly.”

The glistening in Tony’s eyes were impossible to hide as he suddenly leaned forward until his lips were a hair’s breadth away from Stephen’s. He paused there, staring at him, before whispering, “may I?”

Stephen’s own eyes filled with tears, lips trembling, “please.”

Tony surged forward, kissing him like it was the last time, the first time in a millennia and Stephen surrendered to it, helpless against the love and passion and determination of a man who was finally getting everything he ever wanted.

Stephen let his fingers tangle in Tony’s hair, reveling in the way there was no fear, no creeping panic attack that came with every casual touch these days, it was only Tony. He gasped for breath for only as second before Tony was standing, guiding him back and kissing down long length of his throat before following the same path back up. Teeth nipped at his earlobe and Stephen closed his eyes on a sigh.

“Don’t run from me again,” the plea when it came, shattered Stephen’s heart.

“I won’t.”

“Promise me.”

“I swear it.”

Tony pulled back, searching one last time before giving a resolute nod. He grabbed Stephen’s hand tightly, as though afraid he might disappear and began guiding him toward the staircase. For a moment, Stephen’s heart froze in his chest but then Tony squeezed his hand, gently encouraging and he found himself smiling, inexplicably eager.

Each step should have been a hardship. It wasn’t.

When they reached the final few stairs, Stephen heard it for the first time, a weak terrified whimpering. It should have made him feel sick. It didn’t.

They walked down the hallway and the noises increased until they were standing in front of the bathroom door, the guest bathroom he noted, not the master. Tony glanced at him, must have seen something he liked because he grinned, eyes bright with excitement now.

The door swung open and Tony tugged him inside.

Sitting in the bathtub, legs and arms expertly bound with rope, was a familiar face. This was the man, only five days prior Stephen had gone on a date with. The intent behind the date had been duel; reassurance that he could stand such a situation after what happened two months ago and an attempt to draw Tony out.

The second clearly worked…the first hadn’t. The man had been handsy, hadn’t like when Stephen told him he wanted to go home and wasn’t looking for a hookup. Stephen had managed to slip away after the man had grabbed at him and quietly suffered a panic attack in an alley.

Damien, his name had been. From the expression on his face, it appeared he recognized Stephen too, because his eyes widened until the whites were stained red from strain, his body floundered uselessly as he tried to say something around the thick black gag in his mouth.

“Stephen.”

He looked at Tony who watched him softly. That expression always had been just for him. Beneath it now, Stephen saw more. Rage on his behalf for this asshole’s advances, no doubt having witnessed that entire date. Excitement at the prospect of spilled blood.

Tony reached across him and picked up a large hunting knife sitting on the counter next to the sink. He held it out to Stephen who took it automatically, admiring the craftsmanship and surprising himself.

The handle was a dark polished wood, delicate lines running through it, while the blade was a reasonable size; long with a wicked curve but not too thick. Stephen’s thumb ran over a small subtle engraving and peering closer revealed his initials, S.S.

Tilting it Stephen found a longer one on the other side, “For my lover, his health, and his heart.”

Tony’s chin suddenly came up to rest on Stephen’s shoulder, his body pressed close to his own, “Stephen, darling. I want you to know that I will always be here to take care of you. I killed that man, all those months ago for you, so you could feel safe again. But now…” Tony’s arm reached around to adjust Stephen’s grip, before sliding down to rest gently on his wrist. “I want you to know you can also take care of yourself. Anyone who touches you, who dares make you feel threatened, will tremble at your feet.”

Stephen closed his eyes, a sick, twisted kind of power washing over him and he wondered if this was why Tony did it, why he liked to kill so much. The man who had attacked Stephen, wasn’t the first, he knew that much, and it seemed that Stephen was to follow in his footsteps.

He looked at the man again, now thrashing in the tub but much too stuck to do anything about it. Stephen thought the noises seemed like pleas for mercy, for his life and where that should draw pity or sorrow or even compassion, all Stephen felt was disgust.

Stephen’s eyes dropped to the man’s throat, admiring all the veins straining against the skin and the shifting of his adam’s apple as he screamed and cried. His years of training as a doctor came back to him in a rush but in an entirely new and sinister context. The smile that stretched across his lips was startling as it was euphoric, as he imagined the curtain of red that would fall after a perfectly sliced jugular.

Stephen took a deep breath and stepped forward, leaving himself behind, while Tony stood at his back, encouraging, guiding.


End file.
